Sunset in the Mourning
by the bauble
Summary: The tea is bitter, just like him. / The royal youths of Archenland struggle in the wake of losing the Narnian rulers.


**Warnings; **angstangstangst, and all that good stuff. (also, this is unbeta-d, so make of that what you will!)

* * *

><p>Sunset in the Mourning<p>

_a post-Golden Age story_

* * *

><p>The news comes from a centaur, a female named Willow, who carries a composed face with her grave information. She is stoic and unemotional with the exception of her eyes; they speak of tragedy and fright at Cair Paravel.<p>

With the king in court and the crown prince out on important business, Corin and Aravis are the two that receive the centaur. Upon hearing of the disappearance and sending Willow to recover from her journey, Aravis presses her head against Corin's shoulder. It is a large crack in Aravis' well-formed facade, but it is not until they are by themselves, in the antechamber of the official courtroom, that she begins to cry.

oo

The prince glances down at his cup and frowns.

The tea is bitter, just like him.

Cor has not yet returned from his trip, and the knowledge Corin will have to share with his twin brother weighs down his normally light heart. He cannot say sharing will ease the burden, but maybe finally knowing Cor's reaction will lessen the anxiety. Of course, there are other matters that cause discomfort in his mind: who will rule over Narnia with no heir apparent and no distant relatives of the monarch prior to the Pevensies; and how he will get on without his friends.

oo

_Impossible. _But Cor knows it isn't. He remembers the tale he heard not too long after his initial realization of his royal birth, when Lucy had described coming from a foreign land not physically connected to Narnia or it's neighbors in any way. It is hard to imagine, but Aslan has always worked in mysterious ways; his own life is an example of this truth.

With the knowledge of the history of his friends, he should have known they could leave as easily and suddenly as they arrived, as they have done. Except it isn't easy at all, and as one of the most powerful countries, as well as Archenland's ally, it isn't going to be easy for awhile.

oo

"Are you sleeping?"

"No. You probably shouldn't be here."

"It may not be proper to be in your rooms, as we are engaged, but... I needed to see you Aravis."

"...It has recently come to my attention that the stars do not sparkle so bright as I thought, but my perception may be skewed."

"My whole world seems skewed."

"Come sit with me."

"Of course, Aravis."

"I do not know what to think, Cor. My heart has this unbearable ache that sends my body into sporadic shivers. I would see the healer, but I do not think it would help. This is a sickness of the heart, and I don't think there is a remedy to cure it."

"I am sorry for your sickness, Aravis. I feel it too; we all do. It is so strange, and how do we move on?"

"An outsider might say that the passage of time will help us, but Cor... they were our _friends_."

"I miss them too, and I have no advice as to how we can fix it. What will happen now?"

"I cannot say; no one can."

oo

It is a stressful chess match. Corin seems to be squeezing his knight with an unbelievably strong grip, and Cor cannot find it in himself to smile when he takes a piece from his twin. It is a waiting game, in more ways than one.

Lune has not decided what he shall contribute to the solution of the monarchy debacle. His sons might help, but they have no ideas as to what shall solve the problem, either. Oreius and Tumnus have both stepped in for a moment to guide during these times, but it is no permanent solution. It has not yet been a week, but soon word will reach other countries as well as the various islands under Narnia's rule; it will be a game of power and deception that will put chess to shame.

Cor looks up from the board to his brother; Corin is staring out the window, though there is nothing of particular import to be viewing. Each brother is consumed by their thoughts, and it is clear that their is no true distraction from the anxiety.

When they leave the solar the game sits unfinished.

oo

Aravis is not one for simpering ladies in waiting; she may be upset, but she is not going to constantly moan about the tragedy that has occurred - especially not whilst drawing. The other ladies stitch or paint, and while some are quiet others feel as if it is necessary to gripe about the situation, and how _horrible _it all is, and Lady Aravis you must be absolutely _devastated. _

She endures this for a few hours, and does her best not to press the charcoal to the paper with too heavy a hand. It is only when one of the more obnoxious ladies mentions that the princes might need some comforting that she slowly frees her hands, turns to the woman and narrows her eyes.

"You may be excused for the afternoon, Lady Darina." It is quiet after that.

oo

Corin holds a ribbon in his hand. It is long and orange and from one of his closest friends. Lucy was many things to him, and now she is gone. She may be with her siblings, but that is only a small comfort to him, who is missing her so much. She so easily made him laugh, and was such great fun and yet so wise and now...

Now there would be no more laughing or fun or wisdom. At least, not from her.

He can hardly remember a life without the young, amazing rulers of Narnia. That's not true, exactly - there is some, but all of it seems to pale in comparison to the fantastic memories of which Lucy, Susan, Peter, and Edmund are a part. The problem with fantastic memories is that, once those contained within them are gone, they merely turn to bitter reminders of what shall never again occur.

oo

One day, in the garden, the answer comes to Cor. The knowledge that Aslan must have the solution and an explanation is not new, but the concept as a comfort rushes onto the crown prince like a wave.

"He orchestrated it all," he remembers of his and Aravis' and Bree and Hwin's journey to the north. Aslan had guided them between His paws, bringing them to Archenland at the right moment. If Aslan could save Archenland - and Narnia, too, he remembers - He surely could save the allied northern countries once more. He could bring peace to the distressed minds of all those struggling to keep Narnia afloat, above the deep waters of chaos.

Aravis and Corin watch him with wary eyes. It has been long and hard for all of them, this trial.

"Aslan can help us."

"I would like to hope He will, but He has not come yet," reminds Corin. It's quiet again for several moments.

"Well," begins Aravis at last, "maybe it is not yet time. Aslan works in mysterious ways." Cor recalls something Aravis told him a long time ago, of a servant girl and manipulation and long scratches across her back.

"Well, when will it be?" None of them can answer that. All they can do is look at the sky in thought, watching as it darkens to a muted orange and gold over the mountains.

oo

Eventually it is time; but it is not after a long period of arguments and tears and battles and a lot of _hope_.

Eventually the Lion appears and puts someone on the throne of Narnia, one of Archenland's own. It is strange but comforting to know that, after all this time, they have been right in trusting in the one who has so astoundingly changed their world time and time again. Of course, once the event is over and the royalty are returning home from the ceremony, it becomes clear that they should never have doubted.

But that is simply the nature of faith in the dark.

* * *

><p><strong>Um, <strong>this is my first piece for Narnia, so I'm a bit nervous! This sprouted up while I was brainstorming for a longer post-Golden Age fic, and it left me wondering how these guys would deal with losing their friends in the short-term. I can only hope I've done Aravis, Cor, and Corin justice.

edit: whoops, forgot that FFN doesn't allow dashes! Now the breaks are actually there. xD


End file.
